.i
"I could never have a friend who could be such an ass."
Merlin couldn't believe his eyes: the sheer pratness of the man made his wings want to shrivel up and all his feathers fall off. Merlin wanted to turn him into a toad, and wipe that smug grin off his face, or turn his hair blue or…the possibilities were endless.
"Nor I one who could be so stupid. Tell me, Merlin. Do you know how to walk on your knees?"
Moments later, when his punch had gone wild and the Prince ("Who do you think you are, the King?", "No, I'm his son. Arthur,) had his arm twisted up behind his back. It was in that moment that the scene of the execution came back to Merlin with startling clarity; the face of the man accused of sorcery and the fall of the king's gloved hand – as he folded his wings as tight as possible to his back, trying to twist free, the faint outline of them pressed up against Arthur's shirt.
*
There was a bloody dragon under the castle.
It had an annoying voice which permanently suggested that he knew something Merlin didn't – and the worst thing was, thought Merlin bitterly, it was probably true. He shivered slightly in his thin coat, the torch held aloft. It was a small spark of light in the endless yawning blackness that was the cave.
The chains echoed as the dragon settle more comfortably on its perch, hunkering down on it's forelegs, claws long and wicked looking. Merlin thought it may have been smiling. He was distracted by all the iteeth./i
"That your's and Arthur's paths lie together is but the truth," proclaimed the Dragon mysteriously.
"Really," said Merlin, skeptical.
"The time will come, Young Warlock," said the Dragon, showing a singular talent for changing the subject, "You will grow into your wings, as it were."
Merlin's eyes boggled. "My…wait. How do iyou/i know about my wings?"
The Dragon looked amused.
"I know many things," it said smugly. Its wings, significantly bigger than Merlin's own, rustled in the dark in a leathery sound.
"Well, you're wrong about Arthur at any rate," said Merlin stubbornly, "He's such a prat I hope he drowns in his bath water and do us all a favour."
The Dragon laughed, the sound rattling through the cave like a rumble from the earth itself.
"Go now," it said, already turning away from Merlin, wings stretching out like sails, "Your destiny awaits."
Merlin waved his torch a little desperately. "Wait! Hey, I've still got- oi!"
The dragon had gone.
"Bugger it all," said Merlin.
*
Merlin watched the dagger spin for half a revolution before he reached out instinctively for his magic, time pulling like the slow drop of treacle as he dived forwards, yanking Arthur out of the path of danger so that they both fell backwards onto the hard stone floor –
The dagger quivered were it had sunk, inch deep into the back of the Prince's chair.
The King, dazed: "You must be rewarded,"
Merlin thought of bigger rooms, comfortable mattresses and perhaps unimaginable wealth. Or something.
"You shall become Arthur's manservant," announced the King who Beheaded Magical Beings.
iWHAT?/i
*
Of course, Gaius found out about his wings a week after Arthur killed Knight Valiant, the snake heads sitting in a jar on the Physicians shelf, fangs out and eyes glassy. It gave Merlin the creeps every time he had to venture into that particular corner of the room. True to form, the revelation was once again, by accident.
"Merlin! Wake up! You'll be late."
Merlin groaned and burrowed deeper into his blankets, ignoring the knocking as he always did. He had locked his bedroom door the night before, so there was no way he was going to wake up at this ungodly hour. He smirked into his pillows-
The door burst open and Merlin gave a yell of protest as his blanket was dragged off, cool air causing goose-bumps to rise on his arms, hands scrabbling for his sheets in the shocked silence that followed.
"Merlin, what's wrong with your back?"
Crap. "My back? What about my back? There's nothing wrong with my back. Is breakfast ready?"
"There's a lump. Take off your shirt and let me have a look at it."
"What- no, really, there's nothing-"
"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look," interrupted Gaius, raising a terrible eyebrow, "I've been a physician for more years than you've been alive, Merlin. Trust me, I've seen everything."
Merlin hesitated, and then sighed in defeat. His mother had sent him here, after all, and he had to trust her judgment that Gaius wouldn't report him straight to the King. Did possessing wings come under sorcery? He was rather partial to his head. Because his head was still nicely attached to his neck.
Slowly, Merlin unlaced his nightshirt, fingers trembling slightly with nerves, and pulled it over his head. His wings unfurled to either side of his shoulders and he curled them towards his body instinctively, finding comfort in the soft feathers. Taking a deep breath, he looked up.
"My god," said Gaius.
*
i"Am I a monster?"
"Never think that."/i
*
"I did it. It was me, not Gwen. I'm the sorcerer."
His manservant looked out of breath, arms flung out in some absurd dramatic gesture. At his words, Gaius stood up, face drained of all colour and Arthur could see his father relax back into his chair, giving a lazy wave of his hand. The guards had already begun moving forward. Merlin slumped where he stood, looking both determined and defeated at the same time.
He couldn't let this go on. A fool Merlin maybe and useless he certainly was but Arthur wasn't about to let him be executed for some brief crush. Then he wondered when he had been so easily willing to sacrifice one life for another.
"He's in love," said Arthur, inserting as much exasperation as he could into his voice. Up close, Merlin looked exhausted, spots of colour high on his cheeks and hair sticking up all over the place.
"What?" protested Merlin, "No I'm not!"
But Arthur could tell that his father had been persuaded, as did the advisors who all settled back into their chairs, expressions indulgent. iYoung love,/i they will think, iso sweet and so naïve. Bewitched by a sorceress, poor lad./i
"Go to my chambers," said Arthur in an undertone, "Polish the windows, scrub the floors – whatever. But stay there until I return."
Merlin's face was mutinous, but Arthur pinned him with his most furious glare and he could see the fight going out of his manservant as the boy nodded and backed out of the hall.
In the end, though, everything was alright. Arthur killed the Afanc thanks to his unparalleled swordsmanship and Gwen was released from the dungeons once the water plagued disappeared. That night, he dreamt of the moment when Merlin had burst into the meeting hall, so willing to die for a girl he thought he loved. But this time, Arthur's protests ("Father, there is no way that Merlin could be a sorcerer!") fell on deaf ears and the guards dragged Merlin away. Gwen sobbed into Morgana's shoulder and he felt a surge of bitter, vindictive triumph.
Arthur woke with a gasp in the dark, drenched in cold sweat, ears echoing with the sound of Merlin's screams and the smell of choking woodsmoke and burnt flesh. He shivered and sank back into his pillows, and when morning broke, he couldn't remember the dream at all.
Later, much later, Arthur would wonder why he was so angry with deception when he was so eager to overlook the truth.
*
"Will you teach me how to fly?" asked Merlin once.
The Dragon's head snaked towards him until its great golden eye was close enough for Merlin to touch, the light of the flames reflected in the curved irises. It blinked, slowly. Merlin's wings fluttered beneath his shirt.
"Perhaps when you have found your other half," said the Dragon, and flew away.
*
Arthur wasn't sure when it had started: when Merlin's presence meant freedom, a brief escape from the expectations of the court and his father (Merlin seems to have no expectations of him whatsoever except that he would be a Prat) within his rooms. It all seemed to have come about out of nowhere, suddenly and overwhelmingly. The rude, blatant disregard for status and station was refreshing and in rare moments of sentiment, when Merlin would grumble and snark about Arthur's inability to do anything except Be A Prat but then go to the trouble of wheedling the cook for a good half hour so he could get strawberries which Arthur very much adored, Arthur wanted to tell him- never change.
This whole trust business was rather fishy, Arthur thought, annoyed. Especially irritating as Arthur wouldn't trust Merlin with a pair of socks (truly. He had seen what could happen to such items of clothing under Merlin's care) but would trust him with his life. It really made no sense.
Then again, things which usually should have been straight forward rarely made a lick of sense around his manservant. For example, the sensible person should have tapped Arthur on the shoulder in a Discreet Fashion Appropriate For Servants and warned him quietly and left the political death match to more qualified people (e.g. your Prince). Or alternatively, Merlin could have told Gaius who was in a much better position to talk to the king – and not risking his head being chopped off. Much.
Of course, thought Arthur furiously, watching disaster unfold, Merlin did neither of these things, simply bursting into the feasting hall and accusing King Bayard of murder. His manservant really had a death wish, which was about to be granted as if the wine really turned out to be poisoned, Merlin would die. If Merlin was mistaken, Bayard would no doubt take pleasure in skewering Merlin through right there and then. It was a lose-lose situation if Arthur ever heard of one and as he watched Merlin defiantly throw back the goblet and gulp down every last drop, he wanted to kill something quietly.
The entire hall waited with baited breath as Merlin lowered the goblet. Distractedly, Arthur noticed he was no longer wearing The Hat.
"It's fine," he said at last.
Uther made a derisive sound and gestured to Bayard, "He's all yours."
Before Arthur could protest, Merlin made a choking noise, hand flying to his throat. And then he was toppling backwards, hitting the stone floor with a thud and the slow clack-clack-clack of the goblet as it rolled away across the flagstones. For a split second, everyone stood still in shock. Then the hall unfroze in a chaos of drawn swords.
Merlin's face was cold under his hand. Arthur had no recollection of moving forwards but he was on his knees beside Merlin and hauling him bodily over his shoulder even as Gaius said, "We need to get him to my chambers." Merlin was all bones and knees; head lolling limply against Arthur's back, breath hitching in fits and starts against the back of his neck.
His father: "I forbid you to leave this castle, Arthur!"
There had never really been a choice.
*
Merlin didn't know whether he was dreaming or hallucinating or perhaps those two things could be distinguishable. There was pain: it ate away at his body and his magic like thorny vines, slowly strangling him where he lay, trapped inside his own mind. In his dream, Arthur rode out on a quest to find him an antidote, meets an evil sorceress, defeats a magical beast and is trapped inside a dark spider infested cave. Merlin sent this dream-Arthur a ball of light, frantic as the scuttling of legs grow louder and louder and it got harder and harder to draw the next breath as the magic winks out in his hands and Arthur fades out of sight.
His wings lay crumpled beneath him, useless as ever.
*
When Arthur was released from his sojourn in the dungeons, he cornered the first serving girl he saw and demanded to know whether his "idiot of a manservant" was alive or not, heart in his throat. When the girl did not know, curtseying nervously in apology, Arthur took off at a run towards Gaius's rooms, only slowing when dread tugged at his sleeves. iIf Gwen had been too late…/i
Then he rounded the corner to an open door and there was Merlin, covered in a thick rough blanket and hunched over a bowl of something steaming. He was still pale and peaky looking, circles dark under each eye but he was very much alive. Relief swept through Arthur's entire being, warm and sweet like a benediction.
"Still alive," said Merlin with a weak attempt at humor, "I understand I have you to thank for that."
Arthur shrugged, "It was nothing. Decent menservants are hard to come by." All the anger he had, any words he had wanted to shout – idon't ever do this again, you stupid fool, don't offer your life up on a platter as if it was worth nothing/i- had died in his throat. He hurriedly made his excuses to leave (being Prince was a busy occupation, despite what Merlin said) before he accidentally voiced any of this aloud. His debt was repaid; he could go with his honor satisfied. Yes.
Arthur reluctantly turned towards the door.
"Arthur," called Merlin. Arthur turned back. Merlin smiled. "Thank you."
*
Merlin's wings began to grow.
*
--
A/N: sorry for the formatting. I originally coded in all the italics and stuff in HTML, because this was originally for the LJ format, and I don't really have time to go back and change it all and make another copy. If it is too intrusive, poke me, and I'll make time, I guess. :P